Men Don't Cry, They Bleed
by loveintheimpala
Summary: When Dean passes through town to see his brother and, what he presumes to be, his perfect little family, he discovers that what goes on behind their white picket fence is an entirely different story—what seems so safe and sure on the outside is, in reality, a nightmare behind the curtains. Can Dean help his brother, before things go too far?
1. Lie To Hide The Truth

_This is something really, really different for me to write. Bit of a back story—as part of my college course I have been studying domestic violence. Something that caught my eye throughout my research was that a lot of the time, especially within the media, it is mostly women who are portrayed as the victims whereas, in reality, men can often be the ones to fall victim to abuse at the hands of their partner._

_Now, I understand that this fanfiction is something that would never, ever, happen. It's waaaaaay AU from the show, but I wrote it as part of a way to raise awareness to the fact that men can also suffer as victims of abuse, not just women._

_I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!_

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><p><span><strong>Men Don't Cry, They Bleed<strong>

**Chapter One: Lie To Hide The Truth**

Something was wrong with Sam.

Dean had known that from the very moment he had first seen him that morning.

At the moment Dean's green eyes found his younger brother's tall frame, heading through the glass doors at the front of the diner, he just knew. Something wasn't right. There was something about the way he walked—the way his shoulders were slumped and how he looked down at the ground as though he had forgotten how to hold up his head—that just wasn't like him. His actions, appearing desolate and dejected, sent Dean's brain straight into overdrive. He knew right there that something had to be bothering him, something was weighing his shoulders to the ground beneath him, and now that something was nagging at the back of Dean's head.

The one thing that Dean had never been capable of doing was ignoring when his brother could be upset. If he so much as suspected that something was wrong he had to find out, he needed to get to the bottom of it or he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else in his life. Usually it was nothing, just a bad day or a rough night's sleep, but sometimes it turned out to be something more, and those were the times that Sam needed his brother the most.

The way that Sam dropped down heavily into the booth opposite Dean only confirmed his suspicions, the way he slouched down and refused to so much as look at anyone else in the busy room, as though all of his self-esteem had just vanished, it only clinched the older Winchester's concerns.

Maybe if Sam had sat down with even a smile—if he didn't look as though the world was burning around him, if there was even a trace of a smile at his lips—maybe Dean would have let the voice in the back of his mind be silenced. Maybe the concern would have been overshadowed.

Truthfully, he had expected Sam to sit down with an excited grin on his face and for him to go into some quickly worded speech about everything he had missed since his last visit. He had expected to hear stories of how his only niece was doing, about how Sam and his wife bickered about organic groceries, about how normal his life was, but that clearly wasn't the case.

The second Dean laid eyes on his brother's features, he knew that something had to be going on. There were dark circles set beneath his eyes, he looked a wreck, like he hadn't slept in a month, probably longer. There wasn't any life left in his eyes, the sparkle that had once been there was faded to a dull and hopeless colour, nothing like they used to be. He looked completely exhausted, utterly wiped out. And, honestly, it worried Dean to see his brother in such an unexpected state.

"What happened to your face?" Dean asked, the first words he spoke to his brother, because it was one of the first things that had caught his eye.

Sam looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, appearing clueless. "What?" he frowned, confused.

"Your face," he repeated bluntly, narrowing his eyes a little. "What happened to it?" He spoke slowly, as if Sam was having trouble understanding him. But he still seemed lost, not following what his brother was getting at. "Dude, you've got a friggin' split lip."

"Oh." Sam nodded in realisation, and Dean could almost hear him cursing himself in his head. "Yeah, that.. I, uh, I went out to a bar with some of the guys from work, got a little wasted," he cracked half a smile, not too convincing. "You know.."

Dean seriously frowned, because that really wasn't like his brother, and he wasn't sure he wanted to believe him. But, he took the explanation, deciding not to press the matter further, and nodded, giving a small chuckle. "You always were a lousy drunk." he commented sardonically, before he took a small drink of the coffee in front of him. "Where's the kid?"

Although he hadn't mentioned it in their, admittedly very brief, phone call, Dean had expected Sam to show up with his daughter, just so that he could see her. It had been a long time since Dean had seen any of them, in fact, now that he thought about her, it was a long time since Sam had so much as sent him a picture of her.

At just six months old, Sam's daughter, Leah, hadn't spent much time with Dean. Sure, he had shown up for the birth and hung around for a while after, but his line of work called, and there were always monsters that needed to be hunted down. Sam understood that and, to an extent, so did his wife. She hadn't said a word to Dean about him not being around, she didn't seem to mind.

It wasn't that Dean disliked her, he didn't, it was just that he didn't really know her that well. When Sam had finally made the decision to leave the life once and for all Dean had been fully supportive of that. The next thing he knew Sam was telling him he was in a serious relationship with a girl he had met in a café somewhere. Soon enough they were engaged, she was pregnant and they were married, living the life he had always yearned. That didn't mean Dean knew her, but, as far as he was concerned, if Sam was happy then so was he.

"Oh, she's, uh, she's not feeling too great," Sam answered, and Dean didn't miss how he refused to look him in the face as he spoke. "Figured I'd leave her to sleep, you know?"

Dean nodded, not sure that he was convinced by Sam's stories. It wasn't like him to fumble at his words the way he was doing there, to appear as though he was searching for an explanation to Dean's every question. He never seemed so unsure of himself.

"Huh, sure." he nodded in acceptance. "So, how you doing? How's the missus?"

It had been over four months, at least, since Dean had last been in that town, and he was only then realising how little contact he and his brother had been in lately. Being busy with hunting, taking job after job in the tireless effort to rid the world of evil, getting the time to call Sam at the end of the day to check in was difficult. He knew that making regular visits to him would only attract the attention of certain supernatural creatures that really didn't need to know where Sam and his family were, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. But still, it felt like a lifetime since the two of them had been in a real conversation with each other.

"We're fine, Dean." Sam told him bluntly, almost an automatic response. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

The tone took Dean a little by surprise. It was almost like Sam didn't want him there, like he was frustrated even being there to speak to him. He was on edge, tense, as though he was hiding something, and everything that came out of his mouth now—every word and every slight move he made—all made Dean more anxious. Something was going on, that much he knew, but he played it cool, never letting on. He had learned from experience that it never served well to actually come out and accuse Sam of anything, because if he didn't want Dean to find out he would simply deny it and move on, giving him nothing.

"I was just passing through town, heading up towards Ohio to look for a case," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought maybe I'd stop in and see my kid brother, maybe even the niece and sister-in-law, I mean, is that such a crime now?" He took another drink of his coffee and frowned at him across the table. "Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not being weird." Sam countered, he even looked a little offended at the suggestion.

Dean scoffed, because just the fact that Sam didn't come back with a sarcastic remark to him was strange. "You're being weird." he confirmed. "And, don't take this the wrong way but, dude," he paused and looked him over slowly. "You look awful."

He wasn't saying it to be cruel, he wasn't saying it to be funny—his voice was serious—he said it because he was getting worried by his younger sibling's behaviour. Everything was off about him, even the way he spoke, the personality had gone from his tone, it was almost as though something had vanished from inside him. He was different, in a way that Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. But it was bothering him.

Sam simply huffed a humorless laugh and nodded. "Gee, thanks." he muttered.

But Dean wasn't letting it go. He sat forwards in his seat and rested his forearms on the table in front of him as he leaned in a little and lowered his voice to a more serious level, as if to let Sam know he now meant business. "Seriously, Sammy, what's going on with you?" he pressed. "Hm?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing—it's nothing." A small sigh escaped him, because Dean's green eyes weren't letting up from their intimate search of his features, like he was scanning him for answers. "I just, you know, with Leah being sick lately I haven't gotten much sleep, that's all. It's not a big deal, don't worry about it."

But, of course, Dean was going to worry about it, because that was what he did. He worried about his brother.

Before he could even think up something else to say, before he could try and get a real answer out of him, the sound of Sam's phone bleeping distracted them both. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket and frowned as his eyes scanned the text there.

"Listen, I need to go," he said simply, he didn't even wait to give an explanation as to where he was going. He didn't appear to have the time.

Dean was now even more curious, something had suddenly got him on guard. "That the wife?" He allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. "Man, someone's whipped."

Sam opened his mouth, and Dean swore he could see him brewing a comment to throw back at him, but instead he opted for a weak roll of his eyes and a tight smile. "Whatever." he muttered. "How long are you here for?"

Dean shrugged, he really was getting the impression that his brother didn't want him in town. "Couple days maybe."

"Right." Sam nodded. "Well, maybe I'll see you around." he said as he turned and walked towards the doors at the front of the diner.

"Yeah," Dean narrowed his eyes a little as he watched him walk away. "Maybe.."

Something was wrong there, really wrong. He considered the options. He could have been telling the truth when he said his daughter was sick, but anything more than a cold—anything serious enough to have Sam in that state—he would have been straight on the phone to tell him. He thought maybe it could have been money problems, but he was sure that Sam's wife had a pretty decent job, she had money behind her, no question. There was nothing else he could think of that could be weighing him down like that.

But he knew, deep down, he knew it was something. He knew that his brother had been sitting there and lying to his face. He wasn't fine, he wasn't just tired, something was going on, something was happening to him, something that was out of his control.

He didn't care how—he was going to discover what was going on with his brother, he couldn't allow him to walk out of that town until he knew what it was—he _needed_ to find out.


	2. Secrets Tear You Apart

_First off I want to say a massive thank you to everyone for reading the last chapter, also to those of you who left a review, thank you so much, you have no idea how much I appreciate your support! Also, for all of the favourites and follows, I'm so glad that you're liking it so far, I honestly wasn't too sure about it. And, as well, endless thank you the few of you (I won't mention names) who PM'd me to tell me about your own personal experiences with domestic violence, both male and female, I can't tell you how grateful I am of your insight into the topic. _

_This chapter is more of a look into the relationship between Sam and his wife (who I'm pretty sure you all already despise) and their life together. There isn't anything too upsetting in this chapter, but I can't say the same for future chapters, as there is potential for it to get a little darker further on. (At the moment I'm toying between two different endings, and one of them is a lot sadder than the other)!  
><em>_But, as always, if it's a subject you are sensitive to, caution. _

_Thank you again, I hope you enjoy!_

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><p><span><strong>Men Don't Cry, They Bleed<strong>

**Chapter Two: Secrets Tear You Apart**

Sam gave a small sigh as he closed the front door of his house behind himself. Dean's words, the concern he had seen in his older brother's green eyes, it had stuck in his mind since the second he had set foot out of the diner. He knew when Dean got that look he wasn't about to back down, and that meant there was no way in hell that he was going to leave town, not until he had gotten an answer to satisfy his own perturb. Dean wasn't done with him at all.

All he could tell him was that he was alright, he was okay, everything was just fine. But that seemed to be all he ever said to anyone anymore, including himself. It was like he had some dark secret, deep down inside, and he just couldn't share it. Maybe that was because telling someone about it would mean he was truly admitting that it was true, and maybe he just couldn't do that, not even to himself. It was something that he kept hidden away within himself, something that would never see the light of day, it was locked away in a box, padlocked so that no one could get inside and discover it. But Dean was the type to come and start poking at that box, he would take a crow bar and jimmy it open if he really had to, and he wouldn't quit until he had seen every dark thing in there.

The sound of a shrill crying pulled him from his thoughts. Making an attempt to forget everything else, at least for the time being, he shook his head and headed through into the living room of the house. At the table sat his wife. There was a baby monitor placed in front of her, lighting up each time their daughter cried from upstairs, and each time she sat there completely motionless, as though she was utterly deaf to the sound.

He couldn't remember when she had changed into a person who could do that, or if that was the person she had always been. There was something about her that was just cold, a certain aura that came from her that anyone could feel, one that gave the impression that, at any moment, all hell could break loose. There was something about her that made a part of on guard, as though he could never fully relax when he was with her, just in case.

He was almost certain that she hadn't been like that all along. When he had first met her she had seemed kind, warm, compassionate—but that was all in the past. Her dark brown waves and deep blue eyes had been enough to draw him in, what had once been all charm and endearment had trapped him with her, and now, all of that was gone. He hadn't seen that version of his wife in a long time.

"Hey," Sam said from the doorway, his brows furrowed in confusion as if to ask what she was doing, but she didn't look up at him, simply stared down at the table. His eyes fell to the baby monitor on the table as yet another cry sounded throughout the room. "Has she been doing that all day?" she once again said nothing. "She probably just wants some attention, I'll go—"

"No." she cut him off sharply before he could even get his sentence out. "She needs to get into a routine. That's not going to happen if you go running up there every time she cries."

Sam blinked, a little taken aback, because wasn't that the kind of decision parents were supposed to make together? Suddenly she was telling him that he was supposed to just stand around there and listen to their daughter cry out for someone. As far as he was concerned, if his six month old daughter cried out for something, whatever that was, he was going to check that she was alright. He had to. That's what parents were meant to do.

He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Chole—"

"I said, no." she told him, her voice was hard, unkind.

Sam turned away from her, before he said something that he would regret, and shrugged off his jacket. It was becoming harder and harder to bite his tongue with her, because he was sure that she was getting worse. If it had gotten to the point she could so easily sit by and listen to her daughter cry as casually as listening to the radio, there was a problem.

Suddenly, she appeared behind him. "Where've you been?" she asked him, nothing but accusation in her tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that," He hung up his jacket on the rail beside the front door and turned to face her. "I, uh, I just went for a walk."

Her eyebrows raised. "A walk?" she repeated, skeptical. "So, what, you haven't been with another woman?"

"What? No." he scoffed at even the idea of something so ludicrous. "Of course I haven't."

Even if Sam _had_ wanted to go out and be with another woman, which if he tried he more than likely could find another girl to be with, he wouldn't. He wouldn't do that to his daughter, and he wouldn't bring another woman into their relationship because—even if it wasn't her fault—Sam knew that his wife would beat the other woman senseless just on principle, because that was the kind of person she was. She solved everything with her anger, her violence.

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you sure about that?" she asked him, incredulous.

Sam clenched his jaw and fought back the urge to call her paranoid. "Yes," he replied, voice strained. "I'm sure."

Lately, he survived solely on the ability that he could keep his own emotions in check. He could maintain his composure and push everything she threw at him down. He kept it all hidden under the radar and skated through his life without drawing any attention to himself. It was as though he was living as a zombie, with the same mundane repetition each day. He wouldn't speak to many people unless he was spoken to, for fear that they might want to learn more about him, he didn't go anywhere other than work, he rarely left the house anymore. He lived in a way that didn't draw attention to himself, because that was what he had come to depend upon in order to keep the darkness locked away.

He held that secret, held it so tight and so far inside that it became a part of him. It dominated his thoughts, prayed constantly on his mind, looping around in perpetual circles, it was in every move he made, almost like another heartbeat within him.

Chloe scoffed at him. "I don't believe you." she muttered, shaking her head as she turned away from him.

"You never believe me." Sam retorted, not even thinking about it. And that was it, something so small was enough to set her off. Her anger came from nowhere.

She turned sharply and slapped him hard across the face. "No, because you're a _fucking_ liar!" she yelled in his face.

Sam clenched his teeth, hard, and took a sharp breath, anything he could to hide away the anger that was quickly building up inside him. The way he had been raised, the way he had been trained, everything was about reflex. He had been built into someone who could respond to the smallest of attacks almost instantly, it was programmed into him that the second he so much as felt someone near him had an intention to harm him, he attacked. It was a strange thing to take a hit and not automatically respond, because he had spent so many years doing just that—his life had depended upon it.

"You need help." he told her bluntly, his voice was calm and quiet, but there was a darkness to his tone.

He couldn't be angry, he just couldn't, because every time he so much as raised his voice to her she made herself out to be the victim. She could hit and punch and scream and shout at him without remorse, but the second he rose his voice and stepped forward she backed away from him like a coward. She wore a look on her face that made him feel like nothing but a monster, she made herself appear terrified, and he knew that she was fully aware of what she was doing to him, he knew she didn't fear him at all, but that didn't change the fact he couldn't fight back. He couldn't hit her, not someone half his size, he didn't have it in him.

At the look on his face, when she could see him seriously contemplating his next move, her face softened, the way that it always did in that situation. She sighed, as if she was remorseful. "Sam—"

"No," he held up his hand to stop her before she could reason herself out of blame. "This is getting out of hand, Chloe. I can't trust you." Her face formed a frown, as if confused by his words. "I can't trust you around Leah, not anymore."

She opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words for a moment. "What?"

Sam shook his head at her. There was a lot he could put up with from her, hell, there was a lot he _had _put up with from her. But the second that their daughter became involved, when it was no longer just Sam she wanted to hurt, that was when he had to draw the line. He could take her anger, he could take her ignoring him and yelling at him and treating him like her property, but not Leah. The first sign of danger towards her and that was when he knew he had to put his foot down. "You were sitting there just listening to her cry, don't you see something wrong with that?" There was emotion in his voice, more than she was used to hearing from him, and that was when the look of realisation washed over her face, because she seemed to catch on that he wasn't backing down this time. She knew what he was going to say.

"You are not taking my child away from me, Sam." she stepped forwards and her face turned hard, serious, dangerous even.

"Get some help," Sam almost whispered the words, unable to find his voice. "And then we can talk about you seeing her. Until then, until I know she's safe with you—"

"You're not taking my child." she repeated, harsh. "I'll tell everyone you hit me. You'll be in prison and I will make sure that you _never_ see Leah again."

Sam frowned, nothing but taken aback by her threat. Even he hadn't thought she was that cruel. "You can't do that." he challenged, but she only smirked.

"What?" Her eyebrows raised. "You think I wouldn't black my own eye just to make a point?" she shook her head. "Pathetic." she spat. "You're no dad to her. She needs me, Sam, you both need me."

And just like that, she smiled, a satisfied look as if she knew she had him beat. She had him wrapped around her finger, manipulated into believing almost anything she said. He watched as she grabbed her jacket from the hook beside the door and pulled it on without a word.

"And where the hell are you going now?" he asked, almost offended that she felt she could just walk out on him in the middle of such a serious conversation. Yet, it didn't surprise him.

"I'm going out." she replied bluntly. "And you're going to watch Leah."

With that, she turned and slammed the door behind her, loud enough that three seconds later another high-pitched cry came from the floor above.

Sam shook his head to himself and sighed as he turned to the stairs. He half knew where she was going, and he half didn't care. There was a part of him that knew she went out and saw other guys, he didn't know what happened when she did—whether it was just flirting or something more—but for weeks he had said nothing about it. He had taught himself not to care, the way he had done regarding most things his wife did. If he didn't care, it didn't hurt, and that was the way it had to be.

It was twisted, it was warped and it was wrong—he knew that—but it was the only choice he had. If he wanted to live there, if he wanted to be with his daughter, even if it was just to make sure that she was safe, he had to keep the peace. He knew that she was right, one phone call and some fake tears to the cops would be enough to land him in police questioning, enough to give him a bad name around their small town, and he sure as hell wouldn't put it past her to work at a story long enough that he would end up locked away for good. He couldn't risk it.

As he stepped into his daughter's room, he slowly approached her crib. With a soft sigh he reached down and picked her up, instantly stifling her cries. "Knew you just needed some attention." he murmured softly, he couldn't understand how a woman who was supposed to be a mother could be so cold towards her own child. She barely held her anymore, barely paid her attention. She did the basic duties and that was as far as it went.

As he descended the stairs, Leah still in his arms, there was a loud knocking at the front door, to which he groaned. He wasn't in the mood for whatever he was going to have to deal with next at all.

Hesitantly, he pulled open the door to his waiting brother.

Dean smiled at him and nodded. "Heya, Sammy."


	3. Suspicion Always Catches You In The End

_Before I start, I want to say a massive thank you once again to everyone who has given me support with this story, it means the world to me! Thank you so much for taking the time to read, to review and to favourite and follow! _

_This chapter isn't as long as the others have been, I had only finished the first half of Chapter Three (which is this), but I didn't want to leave it any longer without an update. _

_Anyway, thank you again and I hope you all enjoy!_

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><p><span><strong>Men <strong>**Don****'t Cry, They Bleed**

**Chapter Three: Suspicion Always Catches You In The End**

Dean raised his eyebrows as Sam pulled open the door to his house, and offered up a small smile. In all honesty, he had expected he would get one in return, but Sam only looked at him, as if he was debating between inviting him in and slamming the door closed in his face, and Dean couldn't comprehend what had his brother acting so strangely. It was as though something was going on there, and he just didn't want Dean to find out about it, as though the house held some big secret that only Sam could shoulder. But his brother wouldn't keep anything important from him, would he? He had always thought Sam knew well enough to be sure he could tell him anything, that there was nothing bad enough to make Dean refuse him help should he need it. He just didn't understand.

After a moment of silence, he managed a small nod and smiled. "Heya, Sammy."

Sam opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as though he was in some kind of a mental battle as to what to say. But he eventually found his voice again, and he cleared his throat. "Hey." he muttered, almost tentative.

Slowly, he took a step back from the doorway and gave the smallest, most uncertain nod for Dean to enter the house. His brother brushed passed him, curious, and turned to him with a frown on his face. Sam was quiet, way too quiet for Dean's liking.

"So," he began, his tone remaining upbeat despite Sam's clear hesitance of him being there. Sam closed the door over and looked to his brother, expectant. "Do I get to hold her, or are you afraid I'll drop her?" he quipped, clearly not what Sam had been expecting to hear.

For the smallest moment, Dean could've sworn that he looked confused, as though he wasn't sure what he was taking about, despite there being a six month old girl in his arms. And then his eyes fell down to her, and he realised how protective he was being, when he didn't need to be. Not there, not now, not with him. Lately, with everything that had been going on, with Chloe getting worse and worse around their daughter, he had been seeing the entire world around him as nothing but a threat to his child. But, if anything, a part of him knew that she was even safer now that her uncle was there, because Sam just knew how far Dean would go should something happen to her. Even if he wasn't always around, there wasn't a doubt in Sam's mind that Dean would go to the end of the earth and back for her should he need to. He would protect her from anything.

"Sure." he nodded, holding Leah out towards his brother. "You wanna beer or something?"

Dean frowned a little, it was almost like he didn't want to be in the same room as him, he hadn't even made eye contact with him since he had opened the door. His eyes hadn't really left the floor—something about that worried him. There had been a time when all they would have to do was catch each other's eye for that brief second and everything would seem okay again, when they would know with the smallest look that they had each other's backs. It was almost like Sam was afraid to look at him, for fear of what he might see if he were to look into his eyes, like he knew his brother could see right into his soul and identify all of his darkest thoughts and feelings.

"Sure." he replied as he took Leah from him, saying nothing more. He didn't mention the strange behaviour, didn't bring up the sudden change in attitude or press the clear reluctance to spend any time with him. "Thanks."

Sam gave a brief nod and turned away from him to head towards the kitchen, never glancing back or uttering another word to him, the only sound was his footsteps echoing around the cold hallway before they faded into silence.

Dean stood there for a moment, just watching the empty space after his brother, he couldn't help but notice, something there was different. To him, it seemed more like a house and less like a home. He just had a feeling inside him, something was off there. Everything just gave him an unwelcome and cold aura, not what he was used to when he visited. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before his eyes fell to the small girl in his arms. She looked up at him with large hazel eyes, somehow tinted with a faint green, and smiled. It had been a long time since he had seen her, too long. It had been a long time since he had held a child in his arms like that. There was something about it that made his mind drift back to when he and Sam had been kids, before everything had gone wrong for them, back when they had been just a normal family.

And that was when he really noticed, she looked exactly like Sam had done at that age—she had the same facial features as him, the same hair—it was like looking at his kid sibling all over again. And somewhere in the back of his mind he wished that Sam could have grown up in the kind of family Leah had. He wished they could've had a normal mom and dad to raise the, rather than having grown up in a situation where the closest father figure he'd had was his own brother. It hadn't been fair, on any of them.

Dean looked up as Sam approached, two beers in his hands, and found a smile tugging at his lips. "She looks like you," he said to him, noticing how he seemed to be a lot more composed than he had been a minute ago. "She has your eyes," He glanced between them again and smirked. "And your nose."

Sam scoffed and popped the cap off of the beer for him. "You think?" He nodded for him to follow him out of the hallway and into the next room, before he placed both beers down on the table and turned to him again.

He nodded. "Are you kidding," A smirk spread over his lips. "She's gonna be a knockout, just like her uncle, aren't you? Hm?"

Dean grinned down at her, and Sam couldn't hold back the smile when his daughter giggled back at him and reached up a small hand to his face. There was something about watching them together that made him feel better about everything, whether that was knowing that he wasn't the only one there who loved his daughter, or that he was safe in the knowledge there was always someone there to take care of her should something happen, he didn't know. But it was like some form of reassurance to him. It made things seem okay. Dean had a way of doing that.

Still, that didn't make him being there any smarter. He couldn't be around them, he couldn't hang around there long enough to find anything out—it was too risky. Hell, what would he even say if he were to work it out? Sam wouldn't even be able to look him in the face. How could he tell his brother—a man who hunted down and killed monsters every single day of his life without an ounce of fear—that he was being beaten by a woman? How did that make him sound? He couldn't tell him, he just couldn't. And that was why he needed to leave.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked him, blunt and to the point, in a way that only had Dean more curious than he had been before.

Sam should have known, the stranger he acted the longer Dean would stay. He would not set foot out of that house until he knew that everything there was okay, until he was sure that both his brother and his niece were fine.

But still, Dean didn't press it. He gave a small shrug, as though contemplating the question. "Nothing much," he said simply, serene. "Thought I'd stop by to say hey, so, you know," he shrugged. "Hey."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath. "Right." he replied, voice clearly strained.

And that was when Dean decided he'd had enough. When it got to the point his brother couldn't even be bothered to fake it, that's when he knew something was wrong. Or maybe he was trying to act, and he could just see right through it. Either way, it had gone far enough. If Sam wasn't going to tell him what was going on, he was going to have to find out for himself. No matter how hard he had to push him.

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><p><em>Like I said, shorter chapter than the first two have been, I know—little bit of a filler really because I didn't want to leave it any longer without an update. I hope you're all still liking it, and thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate your support! <em>

_You can probably take a guess at what is coming next chapter—I'll give you a clue, the title is going to be 'When Dark Secrets Come To Light'__, so watch out for that! It should be up much sooner than this one was. _

_Thank you again for reading, don't forget to review! :) _


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